The Puzzle Box
by Maedhros Gilthalion
Summary: An Elf in Lothlorien is lost in time, and seeks to open a puzzle box in order to return her love, Legolas.


_ The Puzzle Box_

In a sunlit glen, past the oldest mallorn tree, and through a field of elanor, a couple say lay back in the grass and looked up at the mystifying shapes of clouds, dreaming of the future and where it left them. "Nevatoriel..." Legolas whispered. "I am leaving tomorrow, had you forgotten?"  
"No," she answered, "but I was putting it off until the last possible moment."  
He smiled. "Then I have ruined your plan.1Goheno nin."  
Her golden laughter filled the wood and she said, "There is nothing to forgive, heruamin. But you owe me a kiss, just for thinking such."  
He laughed and kissed her lips, as she ran her fingers through his hair and looked deeply into his star-blue eyes.  
A voice echoed through the Golden Wood, and they were called from their dream to reality. As the two Elves walked back along the path, hardly any word was said, for the companionable silence was enough and neither thought to stain the quiet with conversation.  
Upon reaching Caras Galadhon, the home of Elvendom in Middle-earth, they walked the gardens of Lothlorien, and bade each other farewell. Legolas gave Nevatoriel a beautifully engraved puzzle box, and whispered that she would find the way to open it. She just smiled and held him close.

By the time the Elf-maiden awoke the next morning, Legolas had gone. She picked up the puzzle box from the table beside her bed and failed to discover the way to open it. She set it back down slightly discouraged, but all the more determined to find the answer.  
Feeling rather adventurous, Nevatoriel dressed and grabbed up the box, heading down to the kitchens for some 2lembas bread. Having retrieved it, she walked out to the stables and saddled her mare, and rode off into the Wood. Meanwhile, Legolas was attending the council of Elrond, in Imladris.   
Nevatoriel rode past the old mallorn tree, through the field of elanor, and even past the glen she and Legolas had been the day before. Slowly trotting along the sun-spotted path, she sang an elven tune of love and sun-filled memories, of the days before the darkening of Valinor.  
When her song had ended, she dismounted from her horse and tethered her to a nearby sapling to graze. Having done so, she settled herself at the base of a mallorn tree and tried to decipher the puzzle box.   
The sudden crack of a twig sent her climbing gracefully up the tree as orcs appeared below moments later. They paused at the edge of the small clearing and saw her horse, now edging fearfully away from the vile creatures.  
Nevatoriel, looking down from a high limb, heard a sharp _crack_ as her branch broke. She leapt up and found hold on a higher branch, but the orcs now surrounded the base of the mallorn, and some had begun to laboriously climb.  
She jumped to the ground and pulled her dagger from her belt and was, for some time, victorious, for Elves are easily swifter than heavy uruk-hai. But as she moved to slash one of her few remaining foes, she was pulled back and her hands held behind her. Nevatoriel kicked the orcs before her and struggled against the one behind, but she was quickly losing her strength.  
She stiffened when she felt the icy-cold blade of an uruk on her neck, and the orcs took their chance to bind her hands. Her dagger was taken from her, and she was carried on the backs of an orc. They fled from the Golden Wood, taking their prize to their master. As to whom it was, Nevatoriel had no knowledge. For five days, they ran on without so much as a pause, and finally stopped where the Nimrodel met the Anduin.  
Here, Nevatoriel was set against a tree, with three guards about, and her own lembas bread laid beside her. Hungry as she was, she barely found the strength to reach it, and even then, to chew. But feeling slightly refreshed, she looked about her, and heard the beautiful voice of Nimrodel as it branched into the Great River, Anduin. Soothed by the serene rushing, she closed her eyes, and fell into a deep slumber.

Nevatoriel awoke to the very sound that had lulled her to sleep; only the song of Nimrodel was differed, sounding angry, while before it had been quiet, and tame. She tried to stand, and found that her guards were gone. In fact, there were no orcs anywhere that she could see. All traces of them had vanished, and even she, an Elf, could not follow whatever trail had led them.  
The only reminders of her swift journey were her dagger, which she found near the shore, her lembas, half-eaten from the night before, and her puzzle box. Abashed, Nevatoriel wandered along the shore, and found that the sun was barely risen. So, she followed the Nimrodel upstream, knowing it would bring her back through Lorien.  
For the next several hours, Nevatoriel made her way silently alongside the river, at times forced to find another path, losing sight of the Nimrodel. But eventually, the sky was dimmed, and her feet would carry her no more. She curled up against a tree, and there awaited dawn.

Waking once again to the sound of Nimrodel, she again began her hike. On the second day, she found traces of the path she had been carried days before. She also found the slight footprints of Elves, following after. This confused her, seeing as how any of her people out looking for her would have met her along the path. But she neither saw nor heard traces of her kin. For many days, she still followed the Nimrodel, and it led her back through Lorien, though she could find no familiar sights. It was, and yet wasn't, her home. The forest she knew was bright, and you could hardly take a step without seeing an animal. But in this forest, though it was the same, carried no sound, and no creatures fled from her presence.  
Mystified, she left the banks of the river, and wandered deeper in, towards the very heart of Lorien. The farther inward she went, the deeper and darker her thoughts became. She began to feel creatures that had been unseen following after her, always just out of her sight.  
Finally, deep within Lorien, Nevatoriel found Caras Galadhon. She wandered past the very gates of the city, and finding no Elves about, she wound her way through the trees, up the stairs, up the very tallest tree, to the dwelling of Galadriel. Still, she found no kin. The city seemed abandoned, unlived-in for hundreds of years.  
Eventually, Nevatoriel found herself in what had been the garden where she and Legolas had said their farewells. Now, all that remained were wild bushes, vines covering the once well-kept paths, and shadows. Finally, able to take no more, she sat on a crumbling stone bench and wept.  
A soothing voice echoed throughout the garden. "Why do you weep? What are these tears upon your face?"  
Without looking up, Nevatoriel answered, "My soul is empty, and all I have left in me are my tears."  
She felt someone sit beside her, close enough to touch, yet seemingly unreal. "Surely this cannot be true, or you would not have returned."  
This brought more sobs from her. "I have returned from my bonds, to find my people gone, my home forsaken. Why do you linger here, when all have fled?"  
For a moment, no answer was forthcoming. Then, "I have been waiting."  
She looked up, to see an Elf sitting beside her. Swiftly, she stood. "Who are you?"  
He remained sitting, staring, unblinking at her. "That is of no importance. What does matter is why you are here. How you came to be here."  
At this, she was silent. Then she whispered, "I know not how I have come here, nor why. I was captured by orcs, and they disappeared in a night. I found my own way back to this place, only to find it abandoned, and my kin gone."  
He shook his head. "This makes no sense. There have been no orcs for hundreds of years; many were destroyed when the One Ring was destroyed, the others hunted by the first reclaimed king of Gondor, Elessar. Surely, you knew this?"  
She took a step back, staring at him. "The Ring was destroyed when Isildur cut it from Sauron's hand, an age ago. Isildur's heir walks the wild; he has laid no claim to the throne of Gondor. The sword remains broken, in the halls of Elrond of Rivendell!" She turned and fled from the garden.  
Once away, she glanced back to see if he followed her, and then she ran into him, knocking both him and herself to the ground. He swiftly stood and offered his hand to her. Suspiciously, she took it, and was effortlessly hoisted to her feet. Still holding his hand, she moved closer and looked into his eyes. With a gasp, she released his hand stepped back. The man, thinking she was about to run again, reached forward and grabbed her arm.  
"Please don't run, I have no wish to harm you."  
She answered softly, "How could I run from you, heruamin?"  
Abashed, he released her arm and looked at her, a puzzled expression on his face. "I don't understand."  
She smiled slightly, a tear running down her face. "Do you not know me?"  
He looked at her again. "I have no memory of your face."  
Another tear fell, followed by another. "What is your name?"  
He stepped forward and wiped a tear from her face. "I am Lòmiean. My lady, why do you cry?"  
"I thought you were the one I loved; your eyes tell me so. Yet you do not know me, and you are not him."  
He looked at her sadly, and said, "Tell me, who was he?"  
Another tear fell to replace those wiped away. "He was Legolas, son of Thranduil."  
He furrowed his brow. "Legolas, the prince of Mirkwood?"  
"Yes, do you know of him?"  
"I should. He was my father."

For the next two days, Nevatoriel remained abed, held by her dreams, the darkness that always threatened to take her, and a haunting sense of betrayal that would not dissipate. When she finally regained her conscientiousness, Lòmiean was sitting at her bedside, waiting for her to rouse. When she opened her eyes, she first noticed that he was sitting in a chair at her bedside, asleep.  
She sighed, now knowing that it could not be a dream. Lòmiean, disturbed by her awakening, himself awoke and stood. He took a step closer to the bed, and looked down at her. "My lady, you are well?"  
She nodded, finding no words. He smiled slightly, and turned to walk out of the room. It was then that she looked about, and found the room familiar to her. Indeed, it was her own room. She shook her head, and looked to the table beside, where the puzzle box had been set. She leaned over to pick it up, and tried, as she had so many times on her return to the now-abandoned city, to open it.  
Lòmiean returned, bearing a tray of food and fresh water, which he set on the table where the box had just been. He nodded at the sight of it, and said, "That is beautiful craftsmanship. Whoever designed it was a true master."  
Nevatoriel smiled sadly. "Your father gave it to me on our last night together. Then he left for Imladris."  
He sat on the edge of her bed and replied, "Rivendell is abandoned as well, and none now dwell there. The Elves of Imladris and Mirkwood left for Valinor at the end of the Third Age, as did the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, and with them the Galadrim."  
She turned to look out of the window, and looked out on the gray city, once bright and green with happiness and peace. Now she saw all the trees were overgrown with vines, the paths were shattered, and all of the plants ran wildly together. "Why did you stay, Lòmiean? What reason had you to remain, while your kin fled this realm, onto peace and never-ending youth? In this dim world, surely nothing flourishes, for where it once bright, now is gray. The sun is darkened, and the light has fled."  
He smiled sadly. "Beyond the borders of this land, life does flourish. It is an age of Men, my lady. But I was bidden to stay, by my heart and the will of my father. I did not then see his purpose, and a life apart from the light was near more than I could bear. But I did as I was bid, and now I am thankful for my life of solitude."  
"Why should anyone be grateful to be alone?"  
He smiled again. "Now, when I am no longer alone, I can be grateful for a presence, instead of taking it for granted."  
She looked up from the window, now seeing a new light. Whether she had been too distraught to see it before, or due to the new-found hope, there was a radiance shining from Lòmiean, a slight glow, and it drew her towards him.  
He leaned over and gently brushed her hand with his own, and smiled. "Now eat, and rest. When you awake, we can go out into the city, if you wish it."  
Turning back to the window, she replied, "3Hannon le."  
"4Le creoso. Nîn hiril…Hebo estel." And then he left.

The next morning, Nevatoriel woke to the sound of birdsong. Amazed, since she had heard no birds singing the days before, she got out of bed and walked into the hall. Following the sound down the hall and through various rooms, she finally came across the source. A nightingale was sitting in a tree branch, in a room near the center of the palace. The tree, which had grown through a crack in the tile, now towered far above her head. Several nests were scattered throughout the limbs, in which many of the birds now roosted.  
Suddenly overcome with a bubbling happiness, she began to sing with the nightingale, which flew down to rest upon her shoulder. More birds soon joined in, and Lòmiean, grinning, also appeared and sang along. By the time the song was ended, Nevatoriel's face was wet with tears.  
Lòmiean stepped close to her, and gently brushed away a tear. "Why now do you cry, my lady?"  
She looked up at him and smiled. "I cry because I am happy, Lòmiean."  
He smiled as well, and took her by the hand and led her out the door, outside to show her the city.

Looking below across the city, abandoned, but unlessened in beauty, Nevatoriel and Lòmiean stood above the gates.  
He whispered into her ear, "My lady, you have not yet told me your name."  
She smiled and answered, "Nevatoriel."  
The two stood there long moments, watching the dusk arrive. As the sun set, the most vivid hues of the sun blazed across the horizon, vibrant reds and oranges, set with bright pinks and, as the darkness fell, deep purples and blues. Finally, the moon rose, and the stars shone bright above them. They walked slowly back to the hall.  
Back in her room, Lòmiean bade her good night. Once he had left, Nevatoriel lay back on her pillows and turned to look out the window, as she had just last night. Oh, how different it all seemed now! Yesterday, all had been bleak and empty, and in one day it had gone to bright and beautiful once more. She sighed, and burrowed deeper under the blanket, where she fell to sleep.

The next morning, Nevatoriel was awakened by the sun's first rays of light shining into her room. She sat up, and tried to remember all that had befallen her in the days before. It was then that she turned and saw Lòmiean leaning in the doorway. "5Mára aurë, Lòmiean. I Anor hilól." She grinned.  
He laughed. "Indeed it is, 6nîn hiril."  
She leaned over and picked up her puzzle box from the bedside table as he approached the bed and sat on the edge. He tilted his head and asked, "Why do you wish so badly to open it? Does it hold a secret?"  
She shook her head. "As to that, I could not say."  
He offered to try and open it for her, but she refused, saying she was meant to open it, or never know what it held. He shrugged and watched her struggle to decipher the puzzle. After a long while, she sighed and placed it back on the table.  
"So, does this mean you are ready for another day?" He asked.  
Smiling, she answered, "7Tancave."

When the sun was almost directly above their heads, they found themselves sitting on a small footbridge over the Nimrodel, their feet dangling over the edge and hanging in the gently flowing water. Occasionally, a fish would splash, and now several birds sang their lively tunes. Nevatoriel held her face in the breeze, her golden hair flowing out behind her. Lòmiean just smiled and silently watched her.  
She sighed contentedly, and turned to stare into those deep blue eyes, those that she had once known, and those she knew. Smiling, she stood and pulled him up after her.  
Together, they walked back into the city, laughing.

As another day was ended, they watched the dusk embrace the day from a low bluff, looking out across the far horizon. When the darkness fell once more, they walked down into a glen and lay in the cool grass, gazing up at the stars. "You know," Lòmiean said, "the Valar watch us from the stars. There would be no greater relief than to know that they guide our ships to the far shore."  
Nevatoriel smiled. "No greater relief, indeed."  
There they fell asleep, Lòmiean leaning against an old mallorn tree, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, she lying with her cheek resting against his chest.

Slightly chilled, as Lorien was not renowned for its warm nights, Nevatoriel and Lòmiean awoke shivering. He briskly rubbed her shoulders in an effort to warm her, to no avail. So they went back to the city and sat around a fire in the hall. Nevatoriel retrieved her puzzle box from her room and then came back down.  
Sitting near the fire calmed as well as warmed them, and they were grateful for the sweet smell of smoke, and the sight. A silver column wafting up to the high ceiling, drifting in curls and swift curves, mesmerizing them to watch until it reached the top and reluctantly dissipated…  
But the silence was broken with a _pop _as the puzzle box's lid slowly lifted. Nevatoriel and Lòmiean stared at it, shocked, and then she hesitantly reached inside and pulled out a slip of paper.  
This is what was written there:

_ Neva,_

8_No le an-uir nîn. Melon lîn heir  
estel nîn. Le melon, astoldo hiril.  
Belain na le, _

_Legolas _

Nevatoriel stared down at the note in her hands, smiling with tears upon her face. She looked up, but instead of seeing the eyes of Lòmiean, she looked up at a ceiling. Moving to turn, she discovered she was lying abed, in her room once again. Bewildered, she sat up swiftly, drawing the attention of Celebsilen, who was sitting in the chair at her bedside.  
"Neva, are you alright?" She asked, her permanent worry mark deepening.  
She closed her eyes, and then looked back down at the note. It was tear-stained, and she clutched it in her hand. She shook her head, and held a hand to her head. "As far as I'm concerned, nothing is right."  
Celebsilen arched an eyebrow, but wisely said nothing. Shaking her head, she walked from the room.  
Nevatoriel furrowed her brow, and flipped the note over. On the other side, another message was written, but it was not in Legolas' hand. It merely said:

9_Nîn hiril, en govadad i ambar tûr dûrin. Ten lau lòmë lîn amarth, melon nîn. Namárië.  
Lòmiean_

Looking up, new tears on her face, Nevatoriel turned to look out the window. Her sharp eyes were not granted the sight of crumbling sidewalks, nor vine-covered buildings. Instead, her eyes were met with the beautiful works of centuries, attended and shining with radiance. She sighed, and heard someone, pausing before the door. She did not turn, thinking it was Celebsilen. A soft, hesitant voice sounded through her room. "So, have you forgotten me already?"  
Swiftly, she turned. "Legolas!" Despite the many blankets attempting to ensnare her within themselves, she managed to half-leap, half-fall from the bed and into the prince's arms. She buried her face in his chest.  
He held her close as her tears fell unashamedly from her eyes, and that was how Celebsilen found them. A slight smile played over the lady's sharp features, and she left silently.  
Nevatoriel looked up into Legolas' eyes, and in a distant memory, in a very deep corner of her mind, she thought of Lòmiean. Deep, starry blue, the light and love reflecting on them, beautiful, mysterious eyes. Legolas' eyes, however, now shone slightly with worry and weariness. "Are you alright?"  
"Tancave," she answered.  
"Positive?"  
"Yes."  
"Have you opened the puzzle box?"  
She smiled mysteriously. "Yes."

٭

1 Forgive me

2 Elvish waybread; life bread

3 Thank you

4 You're welcome. My lady…Have hope.

5 Hello, Lòmiean. The sun is shining.

6 My lady

7 Yes (certainly)

8 You will be mine forever. Your love gives me hope. I love you, valiant lady. The Valar be with you. Legolas

9 My lady, time and fate are dark masters. Do not let the dusk be your doom, my friend. Farewell. Lòmiean


End file.
